


Only Love Can Hurt Like This

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Bargaining, Blowjobs, Desk Sex, Dubious consent between minor characters/Silver, Emotions, Falling In Love, Gangbang, Guilt, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, S2 - Ep 1 fic, Self-Loathing, Sexual Tension, Survival, projected self-loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-16 17:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10576053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Season 201 slightly AU: In which Silver facilitates their escape a little differently. The bosun aboard the Spanish Man O'War makes him a deal: If Silver lets his crew use him, the bosun will let him live. Silver agrees. In the aftermath, he assumes Flint despises him for it.It's possible, he's mistaken about that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Silver agrees to have sex with the Spanish crew in exchange for his life, so in that sense it's consensual, but obviously it's not really what he wants so, dub-con. If anyone is concerned/bothered by that and would prefer to see it tagged as non-con, please let me know.

 

“You certainly have a lot to say for yourself.” The bosun steps closer to Silver. His hand slides over Silver’s hair, tugging his head back. “Your companion doesn’t seem very pleased.”

“Fuck him. I just want to live.” Silver deliberately doesn’t let himself look at Flint. He can feel the intensity from the man’s glare without even looking over at him, thank you very much. So what if Flint doesn't like what he's doing. He'll have to thank Silver if they're both still alive at the end of it. And Silver has every intention to be alive, thank you very much.

“The question is, just what are you willing to do to survive?”

That certainly sounds promising. Silver gazes up at him, thinking quickly. “What are you offering?” 

The bosun just grins. His gaze slides over Silver’s mouth with undisguised lust and Silver knows then what it will take. He steadies himself for what will happen next.

“It’s been a while since my men and I have been ashore.” The bosun states. “You satisfy us and we’ll let you go.”

“Hold on.” Flint says sharply.

“I’ll fuck as many of you as necessary, just as long as I come out of it uninjured.” Silver interrupts. He still doesn’t look at Flint. He doesn’t want to see what will inevitably be in those sea-green eyes. He’s seen the look on men’s faces before, when they realize where his tastes lie. It doesn’t matter that he’s only doing this purely for survival. Flint will despise him all the same, for being willing. So fuck him.

“We have a bargain then.” The bosun gives the nod and they untie him.

Silver stands, hesitating. “Here or...” He trails off. If he has to, he can do this in front of Flint, but he’d prefer not to.

“The captain’s cabin.” The bosun takes him by the shoulder. “Come on.”

Silver can’t help glancing back at Flint then. Whatever Flint had thought at first, his face is now a impenetrable mask. He gazes at Silver steadily, and then the door is closed between them.

 *  *  *

They stretch Silver out over the captain’s desk, and he can’t help thinking back to that room in Max’s, and how different that was. This is a group of sweaty, unwashed men who only care about gaining their own pleasure from his body. A cock is pushed into his mouth while another man tugs down his breeches.

“Take it.” The bosun grunts.

Silver jerks his head off and looks up at the man.  “We agreed, uninjured.”

The bosun just looks at him, unimpressed and for a second Silver wonders if this will all go terribly wrong. And then the bosun shrugs and issues a quick command to the man between Silver’s legs. The sailor complains, but he obeys and fetches some oil.

Silver grunts as he’s breached. It hurts a bit, but it’s nowhere as bad as it could be. He forces his body to go as limp and relaxed as possible. He can do this; he’s survived worse than this. He’s going to make it out of this alive and he’s going to get Flint out too. Most likely Flint won’t actually thank him for it, but so what? They’ll both be alive.

The man in him finishes and moves to make way for another. This one slaps Silver’s ass, gripping his cheeks as he thrusts inside. “Make some noise, eh?”

So Silver moans and plays the whore for them, watching their faces without seeing them as they drift by, but he’s not thinking about them, he’s thinking about Flint.

 *  *  *

They’ve just finished, Silver’s still swallowing a mouthful of come, when they hear the attack. The sailors run out of the cabin, miraculously leaving him alone. Silver rolls off the desk to snatch at his clothes.

When he walks to the door, the crew of the Walrus is standing there victorious, and Flint’s already amongst them, bloody cutlass in his hand. Silver’s momentarily disappointed; he wanted to be the instrument of Flint’s deliverance, further binding the captain to him after pulling him from the sea, but here they are regardless. At least they're both still standing.

Flint turns and sees him. Silver meets Flint’s gaze before he can stop himself. Flint presses his lips together, looking him over. And Silver knows the mess he is, knows how it looks. The come drying in his hair and on his shirt. He stinks of it, of their bodies and he knows too that any chance of earning Flint’s respect is long gone.

Flint hesitates, and then comes over to where Silver stands in the cabin doorway.

“Can you walk?” Flint’s tone is brusque, but quiet. Even though the men have to have an idea of what happened, Flint still acts as though it's possible to keep it a secret. The smell of Silver alone gives it away.

“I’m fine.” Silver says.

Flint doesn't question him further, and he's grateful. 

*  *  *

The ship is theirs and Silver tells himself they’re both still alive. That’s what matters in the end. He tells himself to be content with that.

The warship makes sail for Nassau. Silver is relegated to the galley with Randall. There’s no time for a wash as the crew is busily at work. Frankly, Silver wonders how long he can go without bathing. Perversely, he rather enjoys how angry Flint still seems over the whole matter. Every time the captain (Flint is still the captain to him, damnit) catches sight of him, he gives Silver an angry look that makes Silver’s balls practically shrivel in his breeches. And yet at the same time, he’s angry too. So what if Flint thinks he’s a disgusting whore willing to fuck anything to survive? Let him. Fuck Flint. He’s not the one who was prepared to get them out of there alive.

 *  *  *

It’s well later in the day and they’re safely away by the time Flint strides up to Silver as he stands on deck, watching the waves. He's carrying a bucket of water, which he plunks down next to Silver, making him jump.

Flint tosses a rag at him. “Wash yourself off, you smell disgusting.” He turns to go without another word.

“A thank you might have been nice.” Silver mutters. Leaning down to grip the bucket handle he didn’t expect Flint to hear him (or maybe he did). At any rate when he notices the man’s boots have swiveled back around to face him, he looks up straight into furious green eyes.

“What did you say?” Flint hisses.

“You heard me.” Silver straightens up all the way. Flint’s eyes dance over the stains on his shirt and then away again, which only serves to make Silver more annoyed. “A little gratitude might…”

Flint advances upon him and Silver backs up against the railing in his haste to get away from him.

“You will watch yourself very carefully, do you understand?” Flint’s voice is a dark promise. “Just because you managed to pull that off doesn’t mean you deserve any thanks for it.”

“Doesn’t it?” Silver hisses back, angry now. “I didn’t see you offering yourself up to save me.”

Flint jerks away from as though he’s been burned. “Clean yourself off before I have you thrown overboard.” He strides away before Silver can come up with a retort.

 *  *  *

The trouble is, it fucking stings, seeing how Flint looks at him after that. Silver didn’t expect the man to approve or anything, but a little acknowledgement of his willingness to survive, of his fortitude? Is it so wrong to want that?

He retrieves his own clothes from where he stashed them, and carries them along with the bucket down to a corner of the hold. He discards the Spaniard’s disguise and starts washing himself off thoroughly, scrubbing the rag angrily over his bare skin.

 He’s standing there, stripped down to his drawers when Flint appears again.

Flint stops dead at the bottom of the steps, taking in Silver’s nearly nude appearance, and then he simply turns and goes right back up the steps again without saying a single fucking word.

Silver lets out a slow exhale of frustration. It’s not his body that repulses Flint; rather it’s him, just him. That he had done that willingly, let himself be used, that’s what repulses Flint. Obstinately, he refuses to give in and feel guilty. He’d practically gotten them out when the crew arrived. If Flint couldn’t understand why it had been worth it, then he could go to hell. Silver could care less about the whole thing.

*  *  *

A few days pass. Silver ingratiates himself with the crew, and earns a belly of bruises for his trouble. And then Flint’s back in command. It shouldn’t be so bad but every time Flint looks at him, every time their eyes meet, Flint looks away as though Silver’s nothing, only something to be crushed under his boot.

If only the bastard weren’t so damned attractive, but in spite of his intimidating manner (or perhaps because of it, Silver might have a type, don’t judge him) he finds Flint almost irresistible. He wonders what it would be like to unbutton that swath of gray shirt and bare Flint’s chest, to take his time licking and teasing his way across Flint’s nipples, those same nipples that he catches sight of from time to time pressed boldly against Flint’s shirt. To unfasten Flint’s breeches and dare to touch his cock, god, Silver dreams of that. If Flint had any idea of the obscene thoughts dancing around in his head, he’d probably throw Silver overboard himself.

It hurts to want so much and know there’s no hope of anything in return but disgust and rejection. But every night Silver lies awake in his hammock and remembers what it was like to be fucked in the captain’s cabin, and what he had pictured the entire time it was happening.

If only it had been Flint fucking him…

*  *  *

Occasionally Silver thinks about finding another member of the crew to find some release with. After studying the lot of them Logan seems the best choice, as he’s one of the few who doesn’t still bear him any ill will. Well, mostly.

He spends an evening talking with the man over their plates of stew and Logan seems friendly enough, amenable even. They brush shoulders once or twice and maybe there isn’t that thrill that courses through Silver when Flint walks into a room, but Logan doesn’t look at him like he’s pure shit either.

He lets it go for now, knowing that if he chooses to pursue it, it would be nothing but a briefly satisfying, if mostly unrewarding fumble while at sea that Logan would want nothing to do with once they were back in port. Which would suit Silver perfectly. He doesn’t do partnerships of that sort, never seen the sense in it. Trusting someone with your body and your thoughts long term is a good way to get yourself killed. He’ll take quick pleasure and a steady pulse, thank you very much.

 *  *  *

Later he’s up on deck for a breath of fresh air when a taut voice behind him speaks. “Whatever you’re planning with Logan, you can stop it right now.”

Silver turns sharply. Flint’s standing behind him, arms folded against his chest, watching him.

Silver takes a breath, reflecting on what he’s about to say, and then he says it anyway. “Are you telling me who I can and cannot fuck?” The audacity of that, if it’s true, is breathtaking.

Flint considers that long enough for Silver to think maybe he’s got this wrong, but then Flint simply says. “Yes.”

Anger boils up hot in Silver’s gut. It’s long overdue from simmering these past few days. “Just because you’re disgusted by what I did and clearly think no one should ever enjoy a bit of pleasure, doesn’t mean you have the right to tell me what to do in bed, or who to do it with.”

Flint blinks. “Beg pardon?”

“So I let a crew of Spanish sailors fuck me to save my life, and yours, I might add.” Silver stares at him wide-eyed with resentment. “Do you expect me to regret that? Or feel ashamed about it? Well, I _don’t_ , and I’m _not_. I got us out of that goddamn situation when you got us into it in the first place.”

He finishes that speech in a spirit of bravado, and then realizes it was probably all a mistake. Flint’s still just looking at him with that same relentless piercing expression he wears when he’s usually deciding how best to kill you.

“That’s what you think.” Flint says slowly.

Silver laughs. “It’s clear from the way you’ve looked at me ever since that day that you think I’m repellent, for doing what I did, and you know what? I don’t give a fuck.”

Flint’s mouth tightens. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Silver says, unashamed, and unhappy in one single breath.

Without another word Flint simply wheels around and stalks across the deck back to his newly claimed cabin.

The hell was that about? Silver has no clue. Does it really matter that much? He doesn’t go near Logan; he doesn’t _want_ Logan. He wants someone who wants him back, at the very least. In spite of himself, he drifts back to thinking about that day in the cabin aboard the man o ‘war, the cabin that Flint himself occupies now. He can't stop thinking about it, and what Flint thinks of him. 

*  *  *

That night Silver stretches out on his hammock and sighs. No matter what he does, he’s hot and hard and desperate for release. He can’t help it; he lies there and he wonders what it would be like to be pinned down to that desk by Flint instead, to have Flint be the one who takes him relentless and hard.

Silver sighs. The night is too warm; below deck is stuffy and close. He can’t breathe, he can’t think.

At last he shoves himself up and goes up on deck for some air. The night is dark and still, but at least he can breathe up on deck. He gazes out at the stillness. He hates the fucking sea. Is it worth the promise of treasure, which is still just out of reach, to put himself through this torture? He could just leave the ship as soon as they reach Nassau. Nothing’s keeping him here. Nothing but the promise of a treasure that’s barely within their grasp.

He sighs and stares wistfully at the bleak depths stretching out below the ship.

“Mr. Silver.”

Silver turns and Flint’s there once again, a looming shadow in the dark.

“A word if I may.” He nods at the door to his cabin.

What the hell, maybe Flint will take the decision out of his hands and simply remove him from the crew. That would be one way of dealing with things.

He follows Flint inside the cabin and closes the door.

It’s a mistake. Silver remembers everything that’s happened in here, especially on the desk, and he looks away quickly. The silence continues and at last he looks up, confused, to see Flint studying him with almost melancholy eyes.

“I don’t care if you like me.” Flint states and Silver snorts.

“Glad we’re in accord on one matter at least.”

Flint’s eyes glint in the lantern light as he faces him. “But I object to your opinion that I find your actions aboard this ship repellent or disgusting in any way.”

Only Flint could sound so formal when discussing a gangbang.

“What?” Silver says after a moment. He’s still confused.

“I was angry because you were forced into that position. I was angry at there being no other way out of the situation and I was angry because it worked.” Flint admits. “It had nothing to do with you personally, I simply regretted how it happened.”

That all sounds good in theory but it doesn’t really explain nearly three weeks of glowering and ignoring him, not to mention stopping him from getting off with Logan.

“No, that’s not it.” Silver says after a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, some of it, yes, but if that’s the sole reason why you’ve been acting like I’m nothing but shit for even doing such a thing…”

“I told you,” Flint starts to say again, pressing his hands on the desk and facing him.

“Right, so if you don’t loathe me for it…” Silver stops. The other option is so absurd, but from the particularly stiff way Flint is now holding himself, he can’t help wondering suddenly if he’s right. He stares at Flint, trying to decide what to say.

“Then you must want me.”

Flint scoffs. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Then why do you care? Why would you care what happened in this cabin? Why did you care if I fucked Logan too? Why did you object to any of that?” He leans against the desk, facing Flint in a parallel position.

There’s a fleeting whisper of anguish on Flint’s face, and it’s so bewildering Silver can’t even speak.

Then Flint mutters. “Why does it matter?”

“What?”

“What do you want me to say? That I hated the thought of them touching you because I wanted it to be me?” The words are released in a dark rush of anger and Silver flinches.

“That I couldn’t stand hearing every goddamn gasp that came out of this cabin? That I could hardly stand being in here afterwards, knowing what had happened, having the whole room stink of sex, of _you_?” He faces Silver across the desk. “What of it?”

“That’s a little more like it.” Silver leans across the desk and kisses him boldly on the mouth.

He’s risked a lot since meeting James Flint, but this is by far the most dangerous thing he’s ever done.

Flint’s lips are frozen against his mouth for the barest breath, and then he groans, seizing Silver by the shirt and hauling him up over the desk. Silver’s half laughing, half wincing, but he doesn’t care. Flint sits him upon the desk and he grips Silver’s hair, tilting his jaw to kiss him there. Silver takes the initiative again and wraps his legs around Flint’s hips, the better to ensure Flint knows how much he wants this.

“You know,” he whispers. “They fucked me right here on this desk.”

Flint’s breath just catches, and rasps. “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you here?”

“God, yes.” Silver breathes.

He’s not been able to catch a breath since he walked in the fucking cabin. Is this really happening?

Flint presses him down on his back as he divests Silver of his breeches, until his cock bobs free. Flint’s eyes travel over his hard, aching length and then he grips him, stroking Silver from base to tip in one glorious motion.

Silver groans, gripping the desk with his hands. “Fuck. You’re doing this on purpose.”

“You just spent three weeks assuming the worst of me. I think I’m entitled to live up to that reputation.” Flint breathes over the head of his cock.

Silver barks a laugh. Flint’s joking, teasing him and then, oh god, his mouth is on Silver and Silver fucking moans as he grips the desk. Flint’s tongue rubs along his cock and it’s all Silver can do to keep from thrusting hard into his mouth. Flint takes him deeper, fucking Silver’s cock with his mouth until Silver moans louder, practically sobbing with need. His chest heaves, and his balls are so tight. The heat of Flint’s mouth spirals around him, taking him higher and higher until his knees feel weak and he can barely hold back any longer.

‘I’m going to come.” He gasps. “I can’t…”

Flint just grasps his hips, hands sliding down along Silver’s thighs, over his balls and then dipping down between his cheeks, pressing hotly over his hole with his fingertips.

“Christ, Flint, please.”  He’s begging, shamelessly, he wants more and then he’s coming in white hot streaks that swim down Flint’s throat in one long stream of heat.

Silver lies there on his back on the desk, his breath slowly returning to a normal pattern as the heat fades from his skin. Did that really just happen? He looks up to see Flint’s head between his thighs, gazing back at him.

“I still want to fuck you.” Flint says without preamble.

“Fuck yes.” Silver props himself up on his elbows.

Flint’s grin widens, lethal, dangerous and utterly arousing. Flint’s dangerous, yes, but not in a way that Silver knows how to be afraid of. Oh, he’s afraid, but not in the way he was before. Now he’s afraid of getting caught up in Flint’s storm. Now he’s aware of how easy it would be to lose himself to it.

“Spread your thighs.” Flint opens a drawer and pulls out a vial of oil.

Silver licks his lips, eyes bright with anticipation. His cock twitches against his thigh, spent but still enjoying the proceedings. Flint gives it almost an absentminded stroke with his knuckles as he opens the oil.

“Tell me what you were thinking.” Silver murmurs. He wants to know of Flint’s jealousy, of his desire, every single scrap of it he wants to keep forever.

Flint’s eyes darken. “Are you sure you want to hear that?”

“Yes.” Silver catches his lower lip in his teeth at his look.

“I thought you were going to get yourself killed.” Flint says frankly. He slicks his fingers and then presses the pad of his forefinger across Silver’s hole in slow, uninterrupted rubbing motions that make Silver want to press hard against him until Flint simply sinks his finger in down to the knuckle.

“Once I realized that wasn’t the case, it was…torture, listening to you making those sounds, knowing it was them, all of them, making you sound like that. Imagining what they were doing to you.” His eyes are blown dark and stormy with desire and when he moves closer to the desk, Silver can see how tightly his breeches are strained over his cock.

“How badly I wanted to break down that door and slit the throats of every last man who dared to touch you.” His finger sinks further into Silver, swiveling just right.

Silver keens. “And with Logan?” Maybe he’s pressing his luck but he doesn’t care. He wants to know. He has to know.

Flint’s eyes darken further. “The fact that you turned to one of the crew? Any of them? After what they did to us…” He curls his finger sharply, stroking across that sensitive spot deep inside Silver making him cry out.

Flint’s _jealous_ , truly fucking jealous. He doesn’t think Silver’s disgusting or wrong for what he did. He’s jealous. The realization of this truth spikes a deep, desperate need hot in Silver’s groin, coiling around his cock like silken desire. He’s already come, but his blood’s rising again and his flesh is still sensitized, it’s practically unbearable how pleasurable it is.

Flint adds another finger. “If you truly wanted someone else...”

“I don’t.” Silver pants. “I don’t want anyone on this ship but you.” It’s the truth. He couldn’t care less about the rest of them; Flint is the only one that matters.

Flint’s satisfied with that. “Good.” He removes his fingertips and straightens up. Silver gazes up at him with half-lidded eyes, watching the captain unbutton his breeches. Flint draws out his cock and reaches for the oil. Slicking himself he steps between Silver’s thighs and looks down at him silently.

“Fuck me.” Silver commands, begs, pleads, all of them at once and Flint obeys, impaling him with one deep thrust that Silver has groaning even louder. He grabs at Flint’s ass, holding on to him for dear life while Flint moves in him.

All of it, every last thing, seems worthwhile for this. Flint fucks like he moves, effortless and powerful, his entire body in motion as his hands grip Silver, holding him in place, and yet taking Silver with him every step of the way.

“I want to come in you.” Flint rasps and Silver tightens around him just hearing him voice that want aloud.

“Do it.” He whispers.

Flint gazes down at him and then grips Silver’s hair, drawing his head up so that their mouths are almost touching.

“Do you doubt I want you now?” He rocks his hips slightly, making Silver feel the entirety of his wanting.

Silver wants to laugh. “I’ve no doubt you still consider me a little shit.”

Flint’s eyes crinkle and then he cants his hips upward even higher, and Silver gasps, fingers sliding up to cup Flint’s head and pull him down. Their mouths crash together in a tempest of desire and Silver knows nothing else will ever taste this good, never be this good ever again. Flint’s storm is claiming him; he’s lost in it.

When Flint finally eases out of him Silver waits to be told to go. His legs are limp, his back aches from pressed into the desk, and he wants to kiss Flint’s mouth until it smiles at him again. He knows he can’t have those things, but he stays stubbornly where he is, until he’s made to leave.

He watches Flint clean himself off with a handkerchief, and then Flint tosses it at him. Silver swipes between his legs, wiping Flint’s come from him and still there’s silence. He’s just standing there in his shirt and no breeches. Flint tossed them somewhere in his haste. Silver’s debating whether Flint will make him leave without them or if he’ll have time to get them.

“My breeches?” He says at last when it’s evident Flint has no intention of being the first one to speak.

“They’re over there.” Flint nods at the corner. “Unless…”

“Unless.” Silver repeats uncertainly, hope in him in spite of everything.

“Stay.” Flint says, gruffly, without looking at him.  

When Silver stares at him, Flint shrugs. “The room stopped smelling like you after a week.”

Silver smiles.

He crawls into the center of the bed and watches as Flint moves around the cabin. It takes Silver a little while to realize he’s tidying the desk. He’s setting it to order after fucking Silver on it. Silver finds this completely charming. He props his chin in his hands, following Flint with his eyes.

Flint dims the lantern and turns, catching sight of Silver watching him. “What are you staring at?”

“You.” Silver says with unabashed pleasure.

There’s a faint flush in Flint’s cheek at his words. “And do you like what you see?”

“Very much,” Silver half sits up. “Take your clothes off.” He needs Flint to be as naked as he is. He needs to see him.

Flint raises an eyebrow. “Are you giving me orders now?”

“Please.” Silver adds after an afterthought.

Flint smirks. He pulls his shirt free from his breeches and tugs it off over his shoulders. He kicks his boots aside and then he removes his breeches. After a brief look at Silver, who’s still watching, he shrugs off his drawers too and stands there naked.

Flint is magnificent at any time. Silver doesn’t like to dwell on how much time he spends watching Flint stride across the deck or walk well, _anywhere._ Flint’s thighs makes Silver want to beg for mercy. He will never admit this to the man as long as he lives.

Silver catches a breath before it can escape his lips as a moan. “Come here, please.”

Flint comes over the bed and gazes down at him. “You’ve still got your shirt on.” He observes.

“Very observant of you.” Silver murmurs. He reaches out to trail a fingertip over Flint’s hip. He’s lying back so that his shirt just covers his cock. He knows what he looks like, and he doesn’t care. Not when Flint is looking at him like he’s a goddamn ship he’s going to take and board.

“Getting fucked over the desk not enough for you?” Flint inquires.

“Was it enough for you?” Silver asks honestly.

“No.” Flint’s hunger is bare and raw and sends heat fluttering through Silver’s chest.

“That’s what I thought.” Silver bends over and lowers his head to take Flint in his mouth. His ass is bent up in the air, letting Flint have a good long look.

Flint’s hand settles on his curls, urging him onwards.

Silver pulls off and sits back on his knees. “I want you to fuck my face.”

Flint sucks in a breath. “Take your shirt off then.”

Silver quirks an eyebrow and Flint just tugs his head up for a bruising kiss. “Don’t push it.”

“Who me?” Silver’s the picture of innocence.

He sits back and tugs his shirt off, dropping it to the floor. When he lies back to gaze up at Flint, Flint climbs onto the bed. Silver looks up at him from where he’s reclining against the pillows; Flint towering over him, sea-tanned skin and broad thighs. Silver feels an answering quiver in his cock. God, how can Flint have this power over him?

“Are you sure?”

“I hope you realize that as many times as you ask me that, the answer will be yes.” Silver tells him.

Flint runs a thumb over his lower lip. “I like the sound of that.”

Silver takes his thumb, sucking it into his mouth, watching Flint’s eyes darken again. He’s never going to tire of this, and if Flint lets him stay the night then he’s going to make the most of it.

“Come on then.” He settles back down on the pillows and waits impatiently.

Flint moves over his body and still hesitates. “Are you ready?”

“Fucking stick your cock in my mouth already.” Silver sounds needy and whoreish and he doesn’t give a shit.

Instead of simply doing that, (Silver should be so lucky) Flint sits back. “Tell me one thing first.”

Silver shrugs. “Ask me anything you like.” He’s prepared to lie for the sake of what he wants. He runs through the list of things Flint will ask and debates his answer for each of them when Flint says.

“What were you thinking?”

Silver blinks. “What?”

“When you were in this cabin, when they were fucking you, what were you thinking?”

Silver swallows, pushing himself up against the headboard. Flint’s just kneeling there, hands resting on his thighs as he looks at Silver. He’s right there, and he’s naked and glorious, and Silver wants him so much. It would be easy to tell him the truth. It would be impossible.

“If you don’t want to tell me.” Flint starts to shift position.

Silver places a hand on his thigh, causing him to pause. Flint looks at his hand then his gaze travels up to Silver’s face, still waiting for an answer.

“I was thinking about you.” Silver says, the words are honest and he knows there’s not a chance in hell Flint will actually believe them. “I was angry that you thought, that I _thought_ you thought,” he amends at the expression in Flint’s eyes, “that I was just a whore who would abandon you for the sake of their own survival.” He would totally abandon many people for the sake of his own survival, but not Flint.

“I know that sounds like something I’d just say, but…” He hesitates, glancing down, and his gaze is distracted by the sight of Flint’s cock. “but…I thought of you. What it would be like if it was you…how much I _wanted_ it to be you.” He leaves it there because that’s all he has. The weight of truth in his words frightens him. 

Flint looks at him. “So with Logan.”

Silver laughs a little. “I was so desperate for something. And I knew I couldn’t have you.” The room is too warm; he’s too being too honest. This is why he should have kept his mouth shut. He should have left right after they’d had sex on the desk. He starts to draw away.

Flint grips his jaw in his hand and kisses him. Silver’s eyelashes flutter as Flint’s tongue slides slowly and intently against his. They slide down on the bed and Flint draws off to gaze down at Silver.

“What do you want of me?”

Silver stares at him. “Just like that?”

“I have denied myself anything of this nature for so long.” Flint’s voice is low. “If you wish to end it here, we don’t have to speak another word, but if you want to stay…”

“If I want to stay?” Silver presses. It doesn't make any sense to him; why would you deny yourself the pleasure of this? 

Flint chuckles. “You’ll have to stay to find out.”

Silver’s eyes widen in delight. He traces a hand down Flint’s thigh and then down his cock. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”

Flint’s smile is the only answer he wants.

 *  *  *

In the morning, Flint’s weight is half crushing him as he sleeps alongside Silver. Silver can’t find it in him to mind.  

 


End file.
